


Bring Me a Dream

by dance_across



Category: Deadpool (2016)
Genre: Angst, Gallows Humor, Hand Jobs, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance_across/pseuds/dance_across
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re trying to trigger a mutation. They’re making him a superhero. They’re going to cure him.<br/>These are the three things that Wade repeats to himself every single day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Me a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> No, _you_ have a thing for that creepy-ass torture montage.

They’re trying to trigger a mutation. They’re making him a superhero. They’re going to cure him.

These are the three things that Wade repeats to himself every single day.

-

The first time they cut him open, he passes out.

Not because he’s never been banged up before—he’s had _way_ worse injuries than this, and in _way_ skeevier joints—but because it’s just so… deliberate. The exact placement of the surgical instruments. The way Ajax looks on, eager, smiling. The way Angel paces behind him like a hound waiting to be unleashed. The fact that there’s a frigging _doctor_ hovering nearby. Not to perform the surgery. Just, you know, on call to make sure Wade doesn’t die if things get out of hand.

Oh, and the pain. There’s that, too. Lots of fucking pain, and nothing to distract him from it.

“Slightly deeper,” says Ajax, as the knife pauses just inside Wade’s thigh. Red wells up around the incision. “Another half an inch.”

“I can only give you three-eighths, or we risk bleeding out,” says the guy holding the sharp thing.

“Do as you must,” Ajax replies with a sigh.

The knife presses deeper, and yeah, that’s when Wade’s vision starts to go dark.

He doesn’t get to stay out for long, though. That’s the other thing the doctor is there for.

-

They do let him sleep. And they feed him. And they let him use the bathroom. It’s not till each of those things has happened that he realizes he’d been wondering if they wouldn’t.

-

The second time they cut him open, he’s given a serum first. To keep him awake.

“You were a disappointment last time, Mr. Wilson,” says Ajax, smiling as he pats Wade’s cheek. “We can’t have that sort of naughty behavior again, can we?”

“Ooh, was I naughty?” says Wade, his voice wobbly and weak. “You should spank me.”

“That’s for tomorrow,” says Ajax, and secures the gag across Wade’s mouth.

-

Asshole wasn’t kidding. Only it isn’t him doing the spanking—it’s Angel. Muscular and stoic and maybe kind of hot but also way too into her job, if you ask Wade.

She strings him up till he can barely even stand on his toes, till his arms feel like they’re about to pop out of their sockets, and she swats his bare ass a couple times, laughing softly to herself.

He grins at Ajax, who’s standing in front of him with arms crossed, watching. “Guess I asked for that, huh?”

“And far be it from me to deny you what you ask for,” says Ajax. Then he nods at Angel, who’s lingering at Wade’s shoulder.

She nods. Bends down. Picks up—what is that, a flogger?—and circles around to stand behind him

“Aw, cute,” says Wade. “My fiancée bought me one of those for my birthday. Suede, nice and supple. The trick is to aim for the fleshiest part of the”—he sucks in a breath as the flogger lands squarely behind his left knee—“the buttocks, see, she’d always say _ass_ when we were about to fuck, but when we were planning stuff? Always _buttocks_. She’s a classy”—this time it lands on the back of his neck, with so much force that for a second he’s too numb to register how much it hurts—“classy dame, no doubt about it. Now you, madam, you might need to go back to charm school and learn some—”

Angel’s fist lands on his jaw, and oh, yeah, that’s it. Spread the pain around. Too much in one place and Wade gets antsy. But getting beaten up? That, he knows how to take. Today will be easy. You know. Comparatively.

“ _Manners_ ,” he chokes out once he catches his breath, and the flogger lands again, again, again, covering his body in bruises, occasionally breaking skin. And Wade just keeps talking about Vanessa. Spewing out memory after memory, _pew pew pew_ , fast as they pop into his head.

After a while, he even starts to imagine that she’s the one hitting him. Neither of them really has a violence kink (it’s too frequently a necessity in his line of work, and too frequently a hazard in hers), but they’ll flog or paddle one another once in a while just to give things a little extra _je ne sais quoi_ , so it’s not _that_ much of a stretch.

A fist lands in his gut.

“Ooh, fuck, yeah,” says Wade.

A whip slices across his back.

“Harder, baby. Come on.”

A boot crushes the smallest toe on his left foot, grinding it into the concrete floor until it’s a bloody, shattered mess and it’s all Wade can do not to scream.

“God,” he pants, trying like hell to keep his voice from shaking. “You sexy fucker. Do another one. Come on. Do it.”

“Shall I gag him for you, Angel?” asks Ajax politely.

Angel takes his jaw in her hand (ow ow ow _ow_ ) and looks into his eyes. “Nah. He’s funny. Let him talk.”

“You heard it here first, folks!” says Wade, his voice ringing tinny in his ears as his toe throbs. As _all_ of him throbs. “I’m funny. I’m a comedian. Hey, does that mean I get a cut of the tip jar?”

Angel snickers, but Ajax just steps closer, looking keenly at Wade’s face. Then down. Then up again.

“I don’t think he _is_ being funny,” says Ajax, so close that Wade can smell his weirdly minty breath. “ _Sexy fucker_. I actually think he meant that.”

And he reaches down and squeezes Wade’s cock. And that’s when Wade allows himself, for the first time, to whimper.

He hadn’t even realized he was hard.

-

_They’re trying to trigger a mutation. They’re making me a superhero. They’re going to cure me._

-

There’s a heart monitor on the ice-filled tank they’ve put him in, and about two inches of air at the top. Every time the monitor starts to make those worried little noises, they open the tank again. Bring him up. Let the air replenish itself.

Another day, another _extremely stressful situation_ that probably won’t trigger a mutation.

The seventh time the lid closes, Wade starts wondering how a guy might go about tricking the monitor into letting him drown.

-

Oh, and on a related note, it turns out waterboarding _is_ as bad as everyone says it is.

-

“Running out of ideas?” Wade says, as Angel cuffs him and strings him up again.

Ajax smiles blandly.

“And by the way, whose titties do I have to suck to get a cup of coffee around here?” Wade gives them an exaggerated yawn. “I’m just really fucking _tired_. I’m thinking something espresso-y. A latte. Or a cappuccino. What’s the difference between those two, anyway?”

“It’s all in the ratio of milk to foam,” Ajax replies. “Angel, I’m afraid you _will_ need the gag this time. We can’t have him biting his own tongue off.”

Fear lurches through Wade’s chest, irritating in its familiarity.

“Aw, shucks, that’s downright sweet of you,” he says. “You keep talkin’ like that, you’re gonna make a fella blush.”

Ajax tilts his head, the bland smile still firmly in place. “Make no mistake, you _will_ lose your tongue. But it will be by _my_ hand, and it will not be an accident.”

Wade’s gotta hand it to this guy: He does seem to have an endless supply of really good threatening one-liners. Oh, and really good cheekbones. What Wade wouldn’t give for cheekbones like that.

The gag lands in his mouth, stretching his lips open. Angel holds up some kind of wire thing.

Then, lightning strikes.

Again. And again. And again.

He fizzes and

He jerks and

Muscles tear

(he thinks)

Thinking

is

(don’t scream don’t scream)

_Vanessa_

(too late too late)

lightning

_vanessa_

lightning

this is it he’s about to die

(finally)

_happy halloween merry christmas happy fourth of july happy labor day_

(fuck you, cruel world! bury me face-down and kiss my pretty ass!)

_happy secretaries’ day happy new year happy happy_

Lightning

Lightning. A long pause. One last shock, and then Angel steps away. How’s he still thinking? How’s he still awake? How’s he still _alive_?

His head lolls, and a giggle bubbles out around the gag. There’s drool everywhere. Maybe he’ll choke. Cool.

Ajax removes the gag, then steadies Wade’s head with his hand, which just makes everything kind of blurry. Wade might just throw up on Ajax’s shiny, shiny shoes. 

Ajax. 

Ajax, Ajax, hah.

“C’mon,” Wade slurs, trying to focus on the man in front of him. “You gotta tell me. What’s your real name?”

Ajax doesn’t reply. Just reaches down and tugs at Wade’s cock—and, yeah, he’s hard. Again. Maybe… maybe just because it’s been so long… or maybe something about how electricity works. But whatthefuckever. There’s a hand touching his cock, and it’s been so long, and fuck fuck fuck it feels good.

“Whassssmatter?” he says, as Ajax’s smile widens. “Am I being naughty again?”

-

The next day, Angel presents him with a cappuccino. She takes off the lid and throws the drink, scalding hot, into his face. He barely manages to close his eyes in time.

“The boss won’t be in today,” she says huskily. “But he sends his regards.”

As the shock of the initial burn fades away, Wade can feel the slowly-cooling liquid seep beneath his leather collar, onto the skin of his neck. He licks his lips, tasting espresso and milk. It tastes like heaven, and it makes his stomach heave with wanting more.

He isn’t given anything else to eat or drink for the rest of the day.

-

_They’re trying to trigger a mutation. They’re making me a superhero. They’re going to cure me._

When they’re done with all this shit, he’ll be muscley as fuck, like Captain America. Brainy as shit, like that Stark asshole. Maybe he can even start talking fancy, all _thee_ and _thou_ and whatever, like… what was his name? Thor. Right.

(Because, come on, obviously he’s seen the news. He’s read the interviews. He knows all about those guys, and despite everything, he actually kind of likes them. They may be national heroes or whatever, but they still operate by their own codes. Take away all the money and the fame and the press coverage, and what would they be? Mercs. Vigilantes. Just like Wade.)

Yeah, he could stand to keep company like that. Plus, the Captain is stupid hot, and Wade’s pretty sure he’d have no trouble at all convincing Vanessa to invite him over for a little three-way action.

-

The next time Angel rigs him up and starts hitting him (fists! flogger! a chain! an honest-to-god cat o’ fucking nine tails!), Ajax doesn’t even pretend to watch his face. His gaze is laser-focused, the entire time, on Wade’s crotch.

Which is why, this time, Wade actually notices when he starts to get hard. You know—between all the pain and the screaming and the muscles in his arms trying to commit mutiny. It’s fucked up, but there it is. Wade notices, and Ajax watches, and eventually he holds up a hand, and Angel stops.

“Good,” says Ajax, coming over to squat in front of Wade. 

There’s blood streaming down his back, and his legs are more bruise than not, and Jesus Christ, is he about to get sucked off by British Doctor Evil?

“Wow,” says Wade. “Would it be uncouth of me to say that you could’ve gotten the same result by just, you know, buying me dinner?”

“Gloves, Angel,” says Ajax.

“And not even _fancy_ dinner,” says Wade. “Seriously, give me a taco and I’m yours.”

Angel hands him a pair of thin latex gloves, which he snaps on with ease and coats with some kind of lube.

Wade swallows hard. Tries not to think of Vanessa.

“Doesn’t even have to be a _good_ taco. What I’m saying is, you could’ve stopped _before_ the waterboarding….”

There’s the touch of latex on his balls. Another touch on his cock. Ajax’s left hand wraps around him and begins, inexpertly, to stroke.

It doesn’t feel anything like Vanessa’s hand. It doesn’t even feel _good_. But somehow, sparks still ignite inside him, and his hips start moving, moving, moving, even though _god_ he doesn’t want them to.

But fuck it, right? It’s not like he’s got any dignity left to lose.

“Is this really necessary?” says Angel, from somewhere behind him. “I thought the point was torture.”

“The point,” says Ajax, “is extreme stress. And I imagine that being touched against one’s will is very stressful indeed. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Wilson?”

Wade laughs. He has to. Because this asshole’s been touching him for months. Maybe not directly, and maybe not like this, but Wade’s whole body’s been marked by now. The touching? Yeah, that’s not what’s freaking him out.

What’s freaking him out is that his body’s starting to remember how to feel pleasure.

He thought he’d lost the desire for anything except peace and quiet, a brief rest from the electroshocks and the almost-drowning and the knives. But now, this guy’s hand— _this asshole’s hand_ —is making him remember. Igniting warmth, stirring his blood, making him feel less like a test subject and more like a real human person. Bringing him closer to what he was before, to _who_ he was before, to—

“Vanessa,” he whispers, and comes all over the latex glove.

Somewhere behind him, Angel snickers.

Ajax studies his hand with mild distaste, then stands up and meets Wade’s eyes. “Still no mutation,” he says. “Too bad.”

“Asshole,” Wade says, willing his pulse to slow the fuck down.

“Language, dearest,” says Ajax.

“Oh, sorry, darling.” Wade tries for a smirk. “Or, wait, what _should_ I call you? You should probably tell me your real name, now that we’re booooyfriends.”

Ajax gives Angel a nod, and she begins taking him down.

“Unless you’re one of those guys who spends the night and then never calls again.” Wade pouts. “Meanie.”

“Time to go,” say Ajax, and Angel grabs him by the shoulder, leading him back toward his cot.

But even though Wade knows better than to fight Angel, he pulls himself out of her grasp and rounds on Ajax.

“Tell me, asshole. What’s your fucking name?”

Angel grabs his arm again, twisting it and pinning it behind his back with almost no effort at all. As she leads him away, Ajax just smiles.

-

His arms are strapped down, like always, so he can’t even jerk off again that night. Can’t even replace the memory of latex with the comfortable warmth of his own hand. So he just lies there, same as always, with Vanessa’s smile and Vanessa’s hair and Vanessa’s tits and Vanessa’s laugh running on a loop through his head.

Which is probably exactly what Ajax wanted.

Wade knows this much by now: Ajax doesn’t care whether or not Wade mutates. Sure, it’d be a nice side effect. Icing on the cake. But Ajax is here for one reason, and one reason only. He likes hurting people. He likes seeing people feel things— _extremely stressful_ things—maybe because he can’t feel anything himself.

And he’ll keep going until… until…

_They’re trying to trigger a mutation. They’re making me a superhero. They’re going to cure me._

Wade has to believe this, because there’s no way out of this fucking place, and they won’t let him die, and all he can do is hope that something good might come of all this bullshit.

He has to believe, because otherwise he left Vanessa for nothing.

He has to believe.

He has to.


End file.
